


twenty seconds or twenty years?

by rainbowrabblerouser



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Arguing, Breaking Up & Making Up, Domestic, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia and Jaskier | Dandelion are Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon's Parents, M/M, Married Life, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-02-23 01:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23603599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowrabblerouser/pseuds/rainbowrabblerouser
Summary: Jaskier and Geralt have a row.Ciri knows it's serious when Jaskier takes his wedding ring off. Geralt would rather die than take his off.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 5
Kudos: 123





	twenty seconds or twenty years?

**Author's Note:**

> "Lover" - Taylor Swift
> 
> "Babe" - Sugarland feat. Taylor Swift

Days without Jaskier are hollow and empty and no fun at all.

So when Geralt hears his melodic voice in the tavern, he doesn’t hesitate to look up and see him beaming…

“This one is called,” Jaskier falters as his gaze meets his– cerulean meets amber – the world stops and time stands still. 

“Her Sweet Kiss.”

Oh, what the fuckkkkkkkkkkkkk!

Geralt winces and gets up to leave, but he sits right down as if Jaskier had some bard magic keeping him close.

No, no nooooo… 

He stares at him with tired, hooded eyes like he was playing for him and him only. Who knew? Maybe he was. 

Jaskier hadn’t taken his eyes off of him since he had started and he was trembling in his boots like some lovelorn teenager performing for the first time in the talent show to his angry girlfriend who he’d soon give a promposal…

Except Jaskier had been late to prom and he was alone that night in Oxenfurt. Like the geek he was. No one wanted to even ask him. Even as a joke. It was too embarrassing and he was “too much” for the other boys.

He wasn’t anything special enough. Apparently.

When he’s done, he leaves earlier than he planned and refuses the encore, taking his pay away before it can be rescinded.

“Don’t. Fucking. Speak. To. Me. Geralt.”

They were sharing a room and a bed. Because the gods hate him.

Also, the inn was full.

“Jaskier.”

“What do you want? Haven’t you hurt me enough? 22 years of this.”

Geralt stops dead in his tracks and waits for him to follow him inside.

But he doesn’t.

Jaskier looked up at the stars and gazed at them for the first time in a while.

“Do you know why I hate the moon?”

“Jask–”

“Just humor me. For once.”

Geralt stands next to him, leaning on the railing and looking at him instead.

He thought the stars paled in comparison to the view right there.

Since when did he become a hopeless romantic?

“Fine. Why?”

“Because it’s always fucking there! Day and night. Never leaving. And it’s like...like– like you! Can’t get rid of it!”

Jaskier pushes him away and looks up again as he crosses his arms.

“Suppose you’re the sun: brightly shining, warmth, necessary for life, hot.”

“Oh, shut up. Did you hear my song?”

Geralt looks at him. 

He hadn’t aged a day.

“Three words for you: I liked it.”

“Liar.”

He shoves him again, but it doesn’t move him at all.

“One of these days, you’ll have to forgive me, Jaskier.”

“Now is not the day!”

With that, Jaskier went inside and didn’t shut the door.

Geralt followed him in and then sighed.

  
  


What did Jaskier have to do to NOT run into an ex while Geralt was around?

It was embarrassing and really bad luck.

So far, he was on 7, but Geralt surely didn’t know.

At least he hoped.

“Are you taking me back?”

“No.”

“Then, why are you so close?”

Jaskier stepped back. It was instinctual. He gravitated to Geralt. 

There’s a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about him.

He couldn’t quite place it.

Geralt was surely the biggest mystery of all. 

With his “Hm”s and grunts and everything else.

It bothers the fuck out of him. He wants to kick and scream and carry on, but he just can’t bring himself to do it at all.

“Can you just let me be?”

“No.”

Geralt can handle anything you threw at him. But the worst monster of all resided in him, slowly eating him alive every single day.

His feelings.

Witchers don’t feel, but he’s a halfie, and well, he had half feelings.

It’s childish and stupid, but he wished his mother was still around to help him fix this whole ordeal, but she’s dead and he’s pissed off.

“You have the nerve to follow me around, but you hide that you have a child? And she can just galavant all over the realm? Alone?”

“Hm.”

Geralt folds his arms. The girl mimics him and then clears her throat.

“Hm.”

Oh, what the FUCK.

“This is your child surprise? Oh, and she’s blonde too!”

“Hey, I’m 11, so shut the fuck up.”

“Jesus, fuck! That is your kid!”

Her name is Ciri. She’s the princess of Cintra. Well, was.

“Wait. I remember you. The green-eyed girl who’d keep requesting I do ‘Wonderwall’ and ‘I Ran’ over and over whenever I hit Cintra on tour.”

“Oh yeah. Buttercup. The guy who was run out by an angry mob. Women who said you were their husbands’ boyfriend. Something like th–”

Geralt shot him a look and then took a swig of his ale.

Better to not ask. Same old shit, same old fucking shit.

He’s a slut, but who knows?

Jaskier is a difficult man, fickle and constantly dissatisfied with everything.

Geralt is a hard one as well, but he didn’t stand for flowery language.

Ciri soon found that the two were fucking awful to be around, but she didn’t have any other options for parents lying around.

They would have to do, she guessed. 

“Well, I can’t possibly leave you to raise her on your own. It would be irresponsible of me as a citizen of this realm.”

“I’m illegitimate, sir.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

So it was settled.

They were back together, like some divorced couple who only held it together for the sake of the kids. Well, kid.

“I’m sure we won’t end up murdering one another with the kid around.”

“Hm.”

Jaskier wished he had become a cleric instead of a bard some days.

He could have at least been able to defend himself from dangers.

And his own daughter. 

She knows how to sword fight now. Because Geralt was her schooling now.

At least Jaskier was the arts for her.

Her voice was pitchy and her breath control was off, but she could play well. Small hands, he guessed. That’s how he started.

Look at him now. Best-selling, chart-topping bard.

“Her Sweet Kiss” was a hit and haunted Geralt like he knew it would.

It’s the first song she learns. 

Geralt has to hear rehearsal for hours on end and clap at every pause like he was at Swan Lake recording the whole thing, missing some board meeting for his little girl.

Jaskier refused to go sparring. He couldn’t handle seeing her get hurt and he fainted at the sight of blood and wounds. His job was to patch them up like he was the mother of barbarians. May as well be.

He still kisses them better like he had been a parent for a long time, but he just pushes Geralt against the wall when he teases him with requests.

They had some “unspoken thing” that would slowly kill them forever. 

It was heart-wrenchingly slow and was upsetting for everyone involved.

Ciri should get a cent added to her allowance every time long looks prolonged her lessons. 

Without proper training, she’d never reclaim her birthright.

So she’d take up archery elsewhere, anything for means to an end.

Anything.

She would rescue them from themselves with a shove and a sigh, complaining the entire time.

There’s a family trait already.

Bitchin’.

When Jaskier is fighting Geralt, he takes his ring off. It has an amber gem to match his lover’s eyes. Geralt would sooner die than take his off. 

It has a cerulean gem that pales in comparison to Jaskier’s blue eyes.

“You said ‘no one else’ – how could you do this? Babe.”

…

Silence.

Of course, Jaskier had waited until the house was empty and just the two of them were there. He was skilled at finding opportune moments to chew him out over anything.

“Jask–”

“Nope. Not done. I’m just so distraught by this whole thing. You, with her, again. Why’d it have to be some whorish mage?”

Geralt stands there and takes it like he always did.

This was Jaskier’s house first.

He could kick him out if he wanted, but he never did.

  
So Geralt gets kicked out.

Well, he has to sleep on the couch.

“Night in the doghouse?” is what he hears when he goes to the store.

He was buddies with the grocer woman who would give Ciri free cookies and would turn a blind eye when they grabbed extra food.

Geralt scoffed and put a hand to his face. 

“Why don’t you apologize?”

“Because I did nothing wrong.”

“Oh, I suppose.”

He gets extra ice cream and “I’m sorry” flowers. 

Ciri chomps the cookies and laughs as Geralt goes back to his spot on the couch and he takes out...a book?

“Hey, Papa, what’s that?”

“Oh, sweetheart, just my records. I note every instance Jaskier is upset so I can learn from each time.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

He flips through and finds the last time. 

Geralt had been late to something. It was dumb. 

They were divided into causes and outcomes.

“Cause: Tardy for dinner. Outcome: Angry Sex.”

Oh. Well, this would end quite well.

So he would just keep pushing Jaskier to his limit until he blew up.

It was documented in the ancient texts that bards have the fiercest rage.

He would surely succeed this time.

  
  


Ciri watched as the gears in his head turned and he scribbled on a page.

She could sit back and witness whatever nonsense would unfold.

  
“Ciri, my child, where is your father?”

“He just left.”

“Oh.”

  
  


Jaskier had woken up from a long night of sipping wine and crying after he strummed new songs about infidelity.

He was really broken up.

“What does she have that I don’t?”

“Magic, Dad.”

“Well, she can’t kill me. I have a kid.”

“Okay, Dad.”

He ruffled her hair and held her close like she was a teddy bear. Ciri was a soft child he would hold onto when he was feeling down.

There wasn’t anyone else who would care for her like Jaskier.

Jaskier is more like a mother if anything.

“I’m sorry if this stresses you out.”

“No, it’s okay.”

At least they weren’t physically fighting each other.  
  


* * *

Geralt feels someone behind him. 

He knows who it is so he doesn’t say anything. 

“Jaskier.”

The light illuminates his eyes. 

Cerulean.

Amber meets him halfway.

“Geralt.”

“I’m sorry. I can go if you want.”

“No.”

Jaskier reaches out in the dark to pull him closer.

He takes Geralt’s face in his hand and he buries his own in his neck.

“Hm.”

Geralt leans into the touch. He can feel him trembling. 

“Jaskier, love. Will you give me a chance?”

He senses he’s still upset since he’s burning. Jaskier wraps himself around him to the point you can’t see where he begins and Geralt ends.

“Carry me.”

Geralt takes him in his arms and tucks Jaskier’s head into his neck once more. He’s probably all tired out from being upset.

It took all of his damn energy.

He was a fragile one and Geralt would tuck him into bed.

When he puts the covers over him and steps out, he hears Jaskier mumble, “No. Come back here.”

Geralt goes up to him as he tugs his sleeve. 

He gets under the covers and Jaskier wraps his arms around his waist and lays his head on his chest.

“I’m still pissed at you,” he mutters into him.

“I know, darling.”

* * *

The next morning, Ciri notices Jaskier has his amber ring back on.

Peace is restored in the universe once more.

Amber and cerulean mix together to make whatever emerald her eyes were.

Perfection.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> uhhhhhhh percocet molly percocet.....
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HnIdtbV_TDU
> 
> tumblr: @rainbowrabblerouser


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